Til Your Death Do Us Part
by shadeshark
Summary: They go together as well as fire and ice, but they're stuck. . . AxI. No, not THAT A.
1. You Have to be Kidding

Be Mean to Anderson Day continues. Aww.  
  
Anderson, Integra, Maxwell, Rome, England, and the Queen all belong to someone else. But the small flowers are MINE!  
  
+++++  
  
It was a beautiful day in Rome. Anderson looked up at the morning clouds. Small flowers bloomed in bunches along the walk. Banks of lush green plants rose up behind them. It was a pity he was in too much of a hurry to pause and admire the gardening.  
  
Maxwell was already inside. Anderson had gotten a flat tire, and was, regrettably, late. Changing the tire had taken far too long.  
  
He stepped inside the building and was greeted with a flow of icy air. He was heading for the bathroom to wash the dirt from his hands when a servant headed him off.  
  
"They're waiting, sir," he said, in slightly shocked tones that someone with dirt in his hair might decide to put personal vanity over keeping his betters waiting.  
  
Alexander veered away from the door and followed the servant.  
  
He found himself abruptly confronted with a room set up for a formal meeting. It took him a moment to recognise the man behind the desk; Alexander hadn't often seen him. Their stations were too far apart. This man gave Maxwell orders.  
  
*~*  
  
This was the sort of meeting that Integra hated. Formality, ceremony, and several hours that she could think of better ways to kill.  
  
She was pleased to see that the Queen was apparently in no mood to waste time. "Sir Integra. We are pleased to see that you enjoy good health. May I offer you some tea?" Both women sat rod-straight. "We have been negotiating for some time now with Rome."  
  
*~*  
  
Maxwell coughed. The man behind the desk spoke. "Father Anderson, welcome. Please sit down." Alexander, cautious of road dirt, perched on the edge of his chair.  
  
"I'm sorry that I'm late. I had to repair a flat." He mechanically spoke, his brain spitting out orders to repeat the words that he'd been thinking. As though he'd never heard a sound, the man opened the book on his desk to a carefully marked passage.  
  
"Have you often pondered the book of Hosea, Anderson?" At the priest's nod, and before Anderson could speak, the man began reading. Anderson translated in his mind. He was familiar with the passage; this was the second verse of Hosea, in which God ordered Hosea to marry a prostitute.  
  
*~*  
  
"I regret the way that events have fallen out," the Queen said. "But I am afraid that I have much to ask of you. This is why I have called you here to speak directly. Hellsing needs an heir. Sir Integra, a match has been arranged between you and a priest of the Vatican."  
  
*~*  
  
"Father Anderson, the Church has to ask a difficult thing of you." The Bible closed. "As a high-ranking member of Section XIII, you carry a heavy diplomatic responsibility."  
  
First time he'd heard of that responsibility. Usually, his responsibilities were limited to "Anderson, go kill that." Diplomacy, eh? Was he supposed to terrorize someone instead of killing them?  
  
"The regenerator line must continue, and you must use your position as a member of the Church for a greater cause. A match has been made between you and a Protestant woman. If she agrees to go through with it, you can only be expected to comply."  
  
*~*  
  
"I was not expecting an arranged marriage," said Integra calmly.  
  
"Sadly, neither were we. However, with such a wide diplomatic breach between the Church of Rome and our Protestant country, an alliance seems the proper step to take to solidify goodwill."  
  
"And who has the Church chosen?"  
  
"Father Alexander Anderson."  
  
*~*  
  
"A Protestant woman?" Alexander said blankly. "Marriage? I have taken my vows of celibacy."  
  
"It seems that God has chosen you to walk a different path."  
  
"Ah, with who?"  
  
"The Queen has suggested Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing."  
  
*~*  
  
"I'm very sorry about your teacup, Your Majesty," Integra said mechanically. "And the tablecloth."  
  
"Bring another teacup, please. And would you be so kind as to bring a plaster for our guest?"  
  
Sir Integra stared blankly at the spreading stain on the tablecloth. "Anderson? But he's-"  
  
"He's a man who needs watching," the Queen said bluntly. "He is allowed to come and go in this country. As matters stand now, we cannot control his actions. Marriage with you would curtail his movements here without stepping on the toes of the Vatican."  
  
*~*  
  
"But why her?" said Anderson, in a stunned and ungrammatical way.  
  
Maxwell spoke. "In her household, you would be able to analyze the weaknesses of the nosferatu Alucard with much more accuracy. You also might learn the best way to move against the lesser vampire that Protestant sow keeps in her household."  
  
"She'll install metal detectors in the front door," said Anderson practically. "With two vampires aware that I'm coming, I'm sure the house will be full of potential accidents for me to hit. Not to mention the chance of my running afoul of some projects belonging to their veteran assassin. I'll be lucky if I can last a day."  
  
"You will have to spend less time in the field, with the details worked out between yourself and Sir Integra. However, we're certain that your regenerative ability and your skill will keep you alive." Anderson didn't like the little smile that went with the man's comforting words.  
  
"Once again, Anderson, your church asks you to place duty above your ambitions," Maxwell said. "In any case, now that the match has been arranged, you and she must meet to discuss it." He paused, glaring. "And don't kill her!"  
  
"I don't," Anderson snapped, startled. "Just her pets."  
  
*~*  
  
"I understand that this is much to ask," the Queen said softly. "You and he will meet first, to decide if this is possible or not. You know what we wish. Now the decision is yours."  
  
"I will meet with him," said Integra slowly.  
  
*~*  
  
"Are you quite finished?" Maxwell asked icily.  
  
"No." Anderson caught the look the man behind the desk was giving him and sank back in his chair. "Yes."  
  
"You have heard the orders of Holy Mother Church. Go and do what you must." 


	2. Starting Negotiations

Anderson, Integra, Walter, and the library all belong to someone else. Out of the library! Out, out!  
  
+++++  
  
The plane touched down. The priest unfolded himself from the door. Of course, it was raining. When did it not in this mud puddle of a country?  
  
Anderson walked down the tarmac to the airport. He recognised a senior Hellsing agent and walked over to him. Walter barely looked at him.  
  
"I hope Sir Integra sent you to meet me."  
  
"This way. I will drive. Your luggage is being sent ahead." Walter's voice carried a profound wish to see Father Alexander dead and bleeding. He began walking. Anderson followed and climbed into the back of the man's car. Walter drove stonily. Anderson wondered if Integra had sent a less imposing footman to pick him up and the man were still at the airport, while Walter was simply driving to a good place to hide his body.  
  
They ended up inside the gates of Hellsing with no detours and no metal floss. Anderson followed the butler into the building. The man showed him into a small room and left them alone.  
  
Anderson was surprised to find himself in a small sitting room. Probably, he reflected, it was because Integra didn't trust herself in her office, where her guns were kept.  
  
"And how did you take the news?" Her voice filled the room. Anderson walked closer to the fire and found her seated in a tall-backed chair.  
  
"Not very well." Anderson glanced from her to the room's other chair and tried it.  
  
"Have you come to court me?" The look she gave him was both amused and icy.  
  
"I've come to ask you to request someone you have a hope of finding happiness with," said Anderson. "As a priest, I have seen too many miserable marriages to support this."  
  
"Hellsing needs an heir," said Integra practically. Her fingers twitched towards her cigar box, but she didn't open it. "Who do you recommend?"  
  
"To marry? Well, I'm sure that there's many men in the Vatican who aren't as old as your butler and haven't fought with your men."  
  
"You murdered them," Integra snapped, blue eyes fired with hate.  
  
"See?" Anderson lifted a hand. "And in my mind, Sir Integra, I destroyed those who tried to keep me from killing a source of great evil."  
  
"You failed to kill him anyway," said Integra, comfortably shifting in her chair. Anderson's eyes narrowed in recognition of a hit. "Paladin Anderson, out of all the priests in the Vatican, you are the one who I can best rely on to survive the days that Hellsing has ahead of it."  
  
"I am completely out of the question as long as you have that Alucard creature working for you," Anderson retorted.  
  
"Alucard and Seras' coffins have already been moved to a closed-off part of the building where you cannot reach them," Integra said. "Part of our personal alliance must be that you will not attack them during the night."  
  
"And why-" Anderson stopped himself. "Sir Integra, together we can refuse to go through with this. You must understand that."  
  
"This is what my country requests of me," she retorted. "This is what Hellsing demands of me, and this is what I will do. And for your part?"  
  
"Maxwell has given me my orders," said Anderson, leaving out the Biblical support used to command him. "I have never prided myself on my exact obedience to him."  
  
"You'll have to learn to control yourself," Integra responded sharply. "Will you marry me?"  
  
Anderson stared at the fire. "You understand that part of my job is to carry on my line."  
  
"The regener - oh. My children will be regenerators?" Her voice sharpened wickedly. Anderson turned his head.  
  
"One in ten chance, I'm afraid," he said.  
  
"It will have to be taken." Integra drummed her fingers on her chair's armrest. "I don't like it. I suppose the alternative is to marry Maxwell."  
  
"You might like that better."  
  
Integra stood. "Let me see one of your blades."  
  
"I came unarmed."  
  
"You did what? - no, you didn't." Integra held out her hand.  
  
Anderson held both hands up. "I didn't want to be attacked by your loyal retinue for carrying weapons near you."  
  
"You expect me to believe that you came completely weaponless to a foreign land-"  
  
"I had a stash of blades sent ahead. I can pick them up at the post office on my way to the hotel." Anderson gave her his best shark's grin. "There's a pair of swords waiting at the hotel, too."  
  
"The point that I was going to make," Integra sat again, "is that we are both vampire hunters. We both understand that we are a part of a war greater than ourselves. We are the only ones suited to each other's life. Catholic or Protestant, we need God's help to accomplish our mission. There is nobody else out there who is well suited to either of our lives."  
  
"You've argued this with someone too, haven't you?" Anderson squinted at her.  
  
"Of course." Integra leaned back in her chair. "You're not so fatuous as to think I liked the idea."  
  
"I never did, and you're now aware of how I feel," Anderson replied.  
  
"Father Anderson, my position makes it likely that I will make a loveless alliance. I fail to see how arguing with Rome about their selection will improve my chances of happiness. Frankly, it's better you than some hapless pen-pusher who will get shot supervising his first mission."  
  
"And you'd actually mourn him," Anderson finished. There was an uncomfortable pause. "Your Captain Danvers-"  
  
"How did you learn his name?" Integra reached for a cigar and lit it. "And why?"  
  
"I must kill in the line of duty. That doesn't mean that I don't regret the deaths of humans."  
  
Integra accepted the answer, although he sensed that she still wished to see him as a target on a firing range. "Now. We should get the terms cleared up so we both know what to expect as much as possible."  
  
"Terms?"  
  
"First," Integra leaned forward, "I'm not interested in sleeping with you."  
  
"That causes difficulties if we're both expected to produce an heir," Anderson began, and then looked thoughtful. "Artificial insemination?"  
  
"Right. Second off, I'm not going to be the mockery of London. Our marriage will appear conventional-"  
  
"Except for the sperm bank bit, which will be public gossip-"  
  
"You will live in this house," Integra overrode him.  
  
Anderson blinked. "No. No. I will not dwell in a place occupied by vampires."  
  
"And you'll take orders from me."  
  
Anderson cracked his knuckles. "I'm a paladin. You're a knight."  
  
"I own this organization. You do not. You will not, even if you think marriage might bring it to you."  
  
"No, I don't, but marriage with you doesn't place me in the domain of foot soldier!"  
  
"I envisioned you more as a bodyguard." Integra glanced at his hands as he switched to his other set of knuckles. "And stop that. I am used to commanding troops. Are you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I want to use you effectively to work with my troops to free London of the undead. I don't want you loose-cannoning in and slaughtering my men!"  
  
Anderson, flushing, stood and walked towards the door. Integra's voice stopped him cold. "My country has decided this match. So has your church. Are you going against the wishes of the Holy Mother? If you leave this room, I will not accept you."  
  
He turned to look at her.  
  
"Sit down."  
  
Anderson sat, running his hands through his hair.  
  
"I feel the same way," Integra admitting, granting him some of her ground so he could recover his footing. "But this is how it must be."  
  
"So if I agree, I live here," Anderson tried the words, "I don't sleep with you, I don't kill your two vampires - and there can't be more than two!"  
  
"There won't."  
  
"Now, what if you meet a man you might fall in love with?" Anderson saw her slight flinch. "Obviously, our marriage won't be able to support you. Will you want a divorce?"  
  
"Then I avoid him." Integra folded her arms. "I will be bound by this agreement."  
  
"And I'm supposed to obey you." Anderson snorted. "Any other 'terms?'"  
  
"We had better visit each other's churches for at least the appearance of unity." Integra sighed. "We'll go with each other once a month."  
  
"Now. . ." Anderson folded his hands. "As for household matters-"  
  
"Everyone will just have to get used to it."  
  
Anderson accepted that his back was to the wall and decided to quit stalling. He mentally ran the example of Hosea through his mind. He stood, walked to Integra, and sank to one knee. She blinked.  
  
"Will you marry me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"God, help us," Anderson said fervently. 


	3. The First Excuse

+++++  
  
Hellsing still isn't mine. If it were, all the characters would rise up and revolt. Whee!  
  
+++++  
  
Anderson sat back in the chair, staring out the window at the shimmering rain. His lips moved softly in prayer. He was hoping that Integra would come to her senses soon and join him in asking their leaders to pick other representatives. This couldn't happen.  
  
Walter was clinking things on the counter behind him. Anderson tried to ignore the fact that he couldn't see what the soldier was doing. Walter was far too polite to actually say "don't you dare hurt my little girl," but Anderson thought it would do him good if he could. Actually, it would do Walter the most good if he were permitted to fire heavy weaponry at Anderson.  
  
Anderson was considering going AWOL and ministering to the heathens of Australia.  
  
He heard the creak of a door opening, followed by a faint gasp. "Uh, excuse me." Seras Victoria came into sight carrying a large book. The faintest of metallic sounds told Anderson that Walter had prepared for conflict. Anderson pretended to ignore the vampire, although his flesh was crawling. She slipped out of sight through a far door.  
  
*~*  
  
"Perfect." Integra offered Walter a thin smile as she lifted the weapon from its case. "Lightweight but powerful." She aimed at a vase across the room. "I don't think I'll have to use it for some time yet, but it's good to have on hand."  
  
"Well," Walter coughed, "this evening a small church on the outskirts of town was attacked. I think that will provide a good chance to put Anderson to use."  
  
There was a ripple of distortion from the ceiling. "Am I coming?"  
  
Integra turned the weapon over in her hands. "I think it would be a good time to see how the two of you work together." She looked up into Alucard's grin. "Do not provoke him unnecessarily." She looked at Walter. "Officer Victoria should remain behind."  
  
"I don't think that will bother her," Walter remarked. "She prefers to keep away from the priest."  
  
"Don't we all." Integra tapped the safety button of her weapon. "Walter, you haven't once referred to your advice to me to get married two years ago. Thank you." She dismissed him and put the gun back in its case.  
  
*~*  
  
Anderson looked around at the inside of the transport. He was riding with some of Hellsing's common soldiers. It didn't bother him; there were no undead in here. Some of them, men who had probably known Captain Danvers, glowered at him steadily. The rest seemed neutral.  
  
He wished he'd had time to finish discussing Danvers with Sir Integra. Somehow, the topic had retreated. Anderson was still reflecting on her stubborn nature when the transport came to a halt. The doors opened.  
  
Anderson followed the soldiers out of the van. He scrupulously followed the orders of his captain as they entered the FREAK's office building. They cut through ghouls easily. This was why Anderson didn't like working with groups: his fun was always over too soon.  
  
The building was cleared, basement to roof, within twenty minutes. Anderson joined his unit in a sweep around the building, looking for the chipped vampire.  
  
"There, sir," said Anderson, pointing towards a small shed. "Down underground, I think."  
  
The man stepped in front of him, flicking a switch on his handheld radio. "FREAK's suspected location: outside the main building near the emergency generator."  
  
"Verified," a voice crackled back.  
  
Alucard came into sight.  
  
Anderson flicked the safety of his rifle on, smothering his urge to attack. Alucard didn't even seem to notice him. He kicked the door of the building opened and went inside. A few seconds went by. Two gunshots rang out, and Anderson felt the seals close again.  
  
Alucard stepped back out of the door and looked straight at Anderson.  
  
That smirk.  
  
Anderson flicked the safety of his rifle off, hefting the gun, trying to remember that he was to be cooperative with Hellsing.  
  
Something stung the side of his neck fiercely.  
  
*~*  
  
"Good shot," Walter said, watching the priest crumple. Integra resisted the urge to fire the powerful dartgun again.  
  
"Have him removed from active duty," Integra said. "It's too bad I couldn't wait until he began to fire, but the captain's between them. I don't want to lose men." She pushed her glasses up. "Have him removed from active duty until we're sure how he'll act in the next combat situation." Integra smiled blissfully. "Maybe he'll be up for consideration in, oh. . . a decade or so?"  
  
*~*  
  
Anderson was confused.  
  
Integra had given him a 'partner,' Wendell. Since Anderson was doing nothing useful, he assumed that Wendell was there to keep him from spying or stop him if he did something dangerous to Hellsing. Anderson didn't know how Wendell was going to stop him from anything. If he were a warrior, he was deliberately hiding it. Somewhat timorous and frequently clumsy, Wendell was one of the last people Anderson wanted at his back in a dangerous situation.  
  
After Integra's irritation with him, Anderson was trying to control himself and walk softly. He checked his blades with Walter every evening, stoically pretended that Seras did not exist, and prayed for both deliverance and the will to endure.  
  
And now he was doing routine house maintenance with Wendell. If Sir Integra wished for him to be a servant, he would follow Christ's example and serve well. He was beginning to have a personal grudge against the prophet Hosea.  
  
"What do you think of Sir Integra's latest work with terrorists?" Wendell asked, fiddling with a cleaning rag.  
  
"I think Sir Integra performs her duties admirably," Anderson grunted, irritated, as he ducked under the leaky sink. "Why?"  
  
"I heard you were going to be married," Wendell said. Anderson reached for the wrench. It wasn't where he had left it. He ducked out from under the cabinet to find Wendell adjusting it to fit the bucket handle.  
  
"Do you mind?" he asked, appropriating it and vanishing under the sink. "Thank you."  
  
"How long have you been a soldier, Father Anderson?"  
  
"Years," Anderson sighed. "Arsh!"  
  
"What?" Wendell asked sharply.  
  
"Wrench handle slipped and got me." Anderson reached for his flashlight, patting around the floor where it had been. Wendell slipped it into his hand. "Thank you." He tucked the flashlight between his shoulder and his ear. "When was this installed?"  
  
"I don't know." He could hear the bucket clinking as Wendell flicked its edge with a thumbnail. "When did you decide to become a soldier?"  
  
"All of Christ's servants are in His army," Anderson gritted as he broke the crust of grime holding the pipe's seal.  
  
"Wasn't Christ a man of peace?"  
  
Anderson frowned. Wendell's voice had just gotten oddly level. He twisted around to see him through the chink between his torso and the edge of the cabinet as he loosened the nut holding the seal in place. "No demon that Christ exorcised wanted to be cast out, Wendell." The metal bits he was holding sprang loose under the wrench and skittered into the far reaches of the cabinet. "Blast!"  
  
"But demons are different from men."  
  
Anderson groaned inwardly. The desk jockey must have known Danvers. He wriggled back out of the cabinet and looked around for the bolt, washer, and seal. "Hellsing occupies a dangerous position, Wendell. In the past, I have acted to destroy what stood between me and the enemies of God."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't understand."  
  
Anderson picked up the bolt to discover that part of it had broken off in the pipe mount. His patience fled. "We'll talk about this later." 


	4. Hints of Further Plotting

+++++  
  
Ah. I was afraid that would happen. One of my nice reviewers has thought of a solid reason why this wouldn't happen. And it's a reason I didn't think of.  
  
Maybe it's because. . . hrm. . . the Church officials consider that Holy Mother Church divorced him because, ah. . . they advocate this idea because. . .  
  
Here, would you look the other way while I put this chapter up? Thanks.  
  
I am mulling over your criticism, honestly, and will work more on believability. Rrg!  
  
+++++  
  
Alexander Anderson sat in his room drawing from memory. He adjusted the ruler a careful ninety degrees. The pen tip scraped across the paper. The miniscule trench glistened with wet ink. Anderson kept his hand up as he turned the paper again; he didn't want to smudge another and have to start over.  
  
Their conversation ran through his mind again. He didn't know how Wendell got so acutely on his nerves so quickly. He advocated a middle ground, getting away from the solid tenets of Anderson's faith. But Anderson was working with the Hellsing Organization. He was going to have to learn not to let this sort of thing get to him.  
  
But. . .  
  
Anderson stood, looking at the paper on his desk, shifting the ruler a few times to be sure that his lines matched up evenly. The last one hadn't been a perfect parallel. This one was good. He could use it.  
  
Something about their conversations was itching at him. He hunched his shoulders for a moment, tapping the pen against his teeth.  
  
"Pretty," said a voice from the ceiling. "Those look almost useful."  
  
"Begone," Anderson snarled.  
  
"Now, now." Alucard's face formed for a moment, just below the plaster. Anderson felt around for weapons, then folded one of his finished sheets into a paper dart. Alucard retreated, mindful of Integra's stern warnings. "I had to be sure you weren't making an arsenal."  
  
"Just practicing," Anderson answered coolly. A flash of worry struck him. If Alucard could sense him crafting holy symbols from elsewhere in the building, he'd underestimated the beast's sealed strength. What else was he aware of? Anderson turned back to his work.  
  
Alucard remained for a moment, hoping that the priest would give him a reason to stay. Integra had put a time limit on how much time he could remain in the same space as the human. Alexander stoically ignored him. Alucard snarled and withdrew.  
  
Anderson threw his pen across the room. It thunked point-first into the wall and hung there. He was supposed to be studying the creature's habits and weaknesses, and instead, what was happening? A few random taunts from each of them, and the Hellsing's twisted pet would go hide again. He knew they would have to have a confrontation, and he would rather it happened before the marriage then after.  
  
Ah, the marriage. Anderson winced. He didn't know why Integra was putting it off, but they would have to have a pen-and-paper wedding soon. Neither of them wanted the church-and-train affair. Not for this.  
  
His thoughts returned to their previous groove as he retrieved his pen and sat down at his desk again. He set aside his most recent drawing to think.  
  
Perhaps what made Anderson nervous wasn't what Wendell said, but how he acted, Anderson thought. He tried a different tack, thinking of the man's behavior. Wendell was always calm. He was careful not to confront Anderson. He always asked more questions than he made statements. That conversational style was oddly familiar. . .  
  
Anderson pushed his chair back and headed for the door, perfectly aware that Wendell would be with him shortly after he stepped into the hall. He needed to find something out.  
  
*~*  
  
"Master?"  
  
Alucard was staring into space, his lips pulled back slightly in a distasteful expression. "Yes, police girl?"  
  
Seras slid into the room, a book clutched to her chest. Alucard glanced at it and sat up. "I think I may have done something wrong. . ." 


	5. Maybe We Can Get Along Or Not

Hellsing still isn't mine. That star was defective. I warn you now not to wish on it.  
  
I hope you're not getting too attached to my original character. . .  
  
I continue to thank those who have reviewed. It's nice to know what the reader is thinking. I also thank those who haven't reviewed. Everyone, thanks for dropping in.  
  
I also assume blood tests are required in England; if they aren't, Integra cautiously agreed with Anderson that his blood should be tested first. There. Bases covered. On with the story. . .  
  
+++++  
  
*~*  
  
"Sir Integra-"  
  
"Father Anderson." Integra closed the folder lying on her desk and looked up, folding her hands on her desk.  
  
Anderson remained by the door for a moment, feeling unequal to the occasion.  
  
"Come in," Integra hinted sharply. Anderson approached the desk and took a chair.  
  
"I came to apologize," he said.  
  
Integra raised an eyebrow at him. "For intending to assault my men?"  
  
Anderson's eyes went down. "We are encouraged to have unity among the brethren, Sir Integra. Since it appears to be the will of God that we ally, I do not want to leave this fight standing."  
  
"Anderson, you were going to kill my men." Integra quelled the impulse to tear up the folder on her desk and beat him to death with it. Dragging their impending marriage into this was a dirty trick. Whatever he wanted, he wasn't going to get it.  
  
"I know it's not enough, but I have to do something." Anderson lifted both broad hands in an expression of helplessness. "I am too used to fighting alone. I am sorry."  
  
Integra wondered how long he'd been fighting by himself. With an unexpected feeling of common ground, she nodded. "Thank you, Paladin Anderson. I accept your apology. I do not feel equal to returning you to active duty."  
  
Anderson rose. Integra's thoughts flickered momentarily to the weapon in her desk drawer, but she dismissed it. "I was not expecting that, Sir Integra." He gave her a small smile. "Farewell." He waited a moment, as if expecting another comment, and then retreated.  
  
Integra watched his back as he left, half-expecting to hear the sounds of battle in the hallway-she knew Seras was out there somewhere. There was no incident. A few seconds later, there was a timid tapping at her door. "Come in!"  
  
Seras edged in, clasping a large, heavy book, and looking over her shoulder. She let the door shut behind her and walked up to the desk. "I mentioned to you when you asked me to come back later that I'd-"  
  
"Yes." Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing picked up the book and examined the cover carefully. A few seconds ticked by. Seras heard the hands of her watch moving. Integra's steady breathing and the faint scratch of her suit's elbows on the desk varnish provided the only other noises audible to her vampiric hearing. It was an almost eerie quiet. Integra had been going over Anderson's blood test, which was not in the offices it was supposed to be. The knight was, in her own well-organized way, putting off the actual wedding.  
  
"Seras. . ." she flipped the book open. "Which page am I expected to refer to?"  
  
"Three hundred sixty-nine," answered Seras sadly. Sir Integra flipped through the pages of the book. She lifted her head, blinking.  
  
"Seras. 'An Invocation for Household Calm' is about weather."  
  
Seras shifted. "I know that now, but it seemed appropriate at the time."  
  
Integra scanned the page. "This calls for the torturous death of a black cat, Miss Victoria. I'm surprised at you."  
  
"I didn't kill it," Seras protested. "It says in the notation that the deed need only be done in spirit."  
  
"Is this why you borrowed the maid's cat's kittens?"  
  
"One of them, yes."  
  
"And tortured it?"  
  
"Well, I gave it a bath. In cold water!"  
  
"I'm astounded," said Integra truthfully. Seras would have flushed if she had more blood to spare. As it was, she looked marginally pinker. "And then you dried it off and gave it back."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And how did you enact this spell?"  
  
"Well, I misunderstood its purpose, so I centered it around Father Anderson."  
  
Integra blinked, jumping to her feet as she shook her cigar from her sleeve cuff. "What has it done?"  
  
"I think it really did help calm the household," Seras said truthfully. "He just seems mellowed."  
  
"At least he's not standing still scattering rays of sunshine," said Integra, fishing an ice cube from her glass of water and pressing it to the red mark on her wrist. "Officer Victoria, I'll have to keep you from the library until I'm more confident in your restraint."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Although that was well conceived, you have much to learn before you can do anything with spells."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Although that would explain why he's been so irrationally easy to deal with."  
  
The wallpaper darkened as Seras shifted, waiting to see if Integra's mood was lightening. Alucard emerged from the wall.  
  
"The priest is gone from his room." Alucard was grinning like a hellhound on the scent. "Would you like me to go search for him, master?"  
  
*~*  
  
"No records for veterans named Wendell. . ." Anderson paced. Wendell had continued to make him uneasy, to the point of leaving to find out from the Vatican who the man was. "Search again. Wendy."  
  
"None, Father."  
  
"Navy?"  
  
"None. Wendell or Wendy."  
  
"Air-no, he wears glasses." Anderson felt much better now that he was off Hellsing grounds. "All right. Report this to Maxwell." He gave a thorough physical description while looking up and down the street for curious Hellsing searchers. "That's all. I'll report again when I have a chance."  
  
*~*  
  
Mrs. Holly Fanworth was standing at the bus stop flipping through a magazine. She had picked it up at the request of her niece, and was hoping it had horoscopes in the back.  
  
The nice tall man behind her gave a sudden exclamation. "Could I see that, please?"  
  
Startled at this sudden intrusion, Mrs. Fanworth closed the magazine and handed it to him speechlessly. The priest flipped through the magazine twice, stopping abruptly somewhere in the middle. "Thank you." He handed her copy of "Psychology Today" back and stalked away.  
  
He looked angry.  
  
*~*  
  
From the document "Case Study: Mr. Alexander Anderson" by Professor Wendell Morgan:  
  
". . . so far my esteemed colleague's prescription of institutionalization seems a bit heavy-handed, since Mr. Anderson has not seemed overtly hostile. Still have insufficient information to diagnose. Has spoken of "enemies of God" but keeps shifting into muttering when asked for clarification. Mentions other things to be kept off-record at Sir Integra's insistence. Aspect remains blunted. Still am questioning reported behaviors as possible PTSD or ASD (after all, a priest's response to a violent trauma might be delayed violence. Difficult to tell from heavily edited Hellsing reports.)  
  
". . .Today at noon, I lost track of the subject for a period of two hours. Found him approaching Hellsing grounds; he calmed noticeably on his approach. He joined me reasonably enough and entered through the front door. Demeanor seems changed, affable; remained silent for some time despite this. Obviously has things on his mind.  
  
"He tentatively spoke of his concerns for Sir Integra. He sees her as being stressed by the demands of her job and seeing threats to her authority everywhere. Did I hear him muttering 'persecution mania?' I hope not. After meeting the house butler (an obvious obsessive-compulsive) and one of their special agents (have tentatively placed her as a borderline anorexic; have overheard many arguments between her and her superiors over her refusal to take sustenance) I'm beginning to wonder if there's anyone here who could function well outside this very specialized environment.  
  
"Were those gunshots from Sir Integra's office? Again? Yes, am beginning to wonder about her current coping strategies. Must check door lock. Must not allow Anderson to depart again without learning his intent; am deeply curious about what affected his mood. Maybe he had good news from his home country?" 


	6. A Very Brief Peace

DeCobray, I thought that perhaps regeneration was a scientific feat that, once, um, caught, was part of that person and could be genetically perpetuated. Anderson didn't inherit regeneration, but now his children have a chance of being regenerators.  
  
+++++  
  
He was a warrior. A paladin, a soldier of the cross. That he was commanded for the time being to relinquish his weapons should make no difference.  
  
It did. Anderson sat in the Hellsing chapel, trying to pin down the vague uneasiness that filled him. It wasn't about the marriage; for all Integra fussed over "improper heirs to the Hellsing blood" and put it off, she still intended to go through with it. At first, Anderson had thought that she had cold feet. More recently, he suspected that she was trying to get enough evidence to institutionalize him after the wedding.  
  
He didn't feel right about not confronting her. He knew that as much as a few weeks ago, he would have slammed upstairs, broken down the door of her office, and demanded an explanation until she was forced to either admit her deceit or summon her vampire.  
  
Things were. . . different now.  
  
Anderson stretched, gaze fixed on the arches over the chapel. This place seemed almost pagan in its bareness. Why didn't Integra have at least a bench down here?  
  
So things were different. How?  
  
He didn't want to fight with her. Anderson examined the thought as a miner might look at a rock that just might be a strange sort of gemstone. At first, he considered the obvious: they were on the same side and engaged, however reluctantly, to be married. He didn't want to upset their truce.  
  
However, she'd sicced a psychologist on him. What truce?  
  
So he didn't want to fight with her because she was a very lovely woman, and engaged to be married to him.  
  
Well, that was more plausible. Integra was a brave and determined woman. She certainly commanded his respect. Was that enough make him let her off? No.  
  
And he certainly wasn't afraid of her. Anderson shrugged. He just felt in a mood to let events slide. He wouldn't trap himself with Maxwell; he would appear harmless and innocuous until the man had decided he was too boring to be a psychopath.  
  
And then he'd have words with Integra, unless they were married by then. It could be wiser to let bygones be bygones-  
  
Good Lord. What was he thinking?  
  
What was wrong with him?  
  
*~*  
  
Integra leaned against the fireplace, staring out the window. Behind her, Walter was carefully moving the tea things from the tray to the table. He was unusually stressed by recent events. Integra had attempted to counter this by emphasizing the importance of his duties. She was returning to a childhood habit of asking for cookies when she felt stressed. And since Walter was in a formal mood, cookies meant tea to go with them.  
  
She had read the carefully worded jargon her favorite laboratory had sent back to her. Regenerator genes appeared to be compatible with Hellsing genetic material. The odds of their having complications with conception or childbirth seemed low.  
  
"Wendell seems to think we're all mad," she said finally. "I'll have to send him back and call in someone else for the second opinion. Damn my timing - if Miss Victoria hadn't intervened, he'd have been certifiable."  
  
"What troubles me just as much is the idea that the effects of the spell may not last outside the Hellsing boundaries," Walter said carefully. "It is, after all, an invocation for household calm. Not just calm."  
  
Integra made a noise of agreement and added that to her list of variables in pondering the upcoming marriage. "I suppose I'd better go talk to him. I wonder at what point I should explain that he's under a spell?"  
  
"I don't know," Walter admitted.  
  
"After all, he's going to notice that he has a completely different outlook outside Hellsing grounds. I can't keep him in the basement too." Integra sighed. "Could you call him up for tea, please?"  
  
*~*  
  
It was a battle of wills.  
  
Anderson sprawled comfortably against the base of the pillar. He watched his adversary and continued cracking his knuckles.  
  
The two had been ordered not to challenge each other. Alucard had been sternly forbidden to provoke the priest. However, keeping the two from annoying each other was beyond mortal control.  
  
Alucard began to whistle a song, just barely off-key, and continued to flood the sanctuary with red light. Anderson stretched, twisting until his back popped, and leaned against the column again with a comfortable sigh. Biting his nails was out. He settled for pausing to pray aloud for Integra's soul.  
  
Alucard's fingers twitched for a moment as though he had a gun in his grasp. He settled for folding a stolen piece of Anderson's correspondence into a paper airplane and flying it into the column over the priest's head. Anderson finished his prayer. There was a brief lull while each considered how close to the edge the other might be.  
  
"By the way," Alucard said into the germinating silence, "I wanted to apologize for stealing the kill of Enrico Stivaletti from you."  
  
Anderson smiled at him. "There's nothing to forgive. But I must ask that you extend your grace. Did I not stop by into London and wipe out two chipped vampires and a nest of ghouls before you were halfway to them, simply for the expression on your face?"  
  
Alucard's first reply was stopped in his mouth, probably because it would have violated Integra's order not to provoke the priest. Walter opened the door while he was still rephrasing his next shot.  
  
"Father Anderson? Integra has paused her studies for tea, and hopes that you will join her."  
  
"Thank you, Walter." Anderson scooted out of the chapel before the hellbeast behind him could finish approximating his scathing comment into more civil terms. Once the door closed behind him, Anderson was content that he had spoiled the chance for the vampire to reply.  
  
Tea with Integra was remarkably. . . civil. Anderson later could think of no other way to describe it. He had been calm, Integra had been calm, and there had been no emergencies during the small meal. Alucard had probably been off snooping through the day's meal (or possibly plotting with Walter) and Seras had not been in evidence. There had been little to provoke him.  
  
"For how long do the members of your order prepare to fight the undead?"  
  
"Some of us have trained all our lives." Anderson was suspicious of the teacup. He was starting to suspect that Walter had secretly been sanding it to make it as frail as possible. If the handle got much thinner, he was going to need a pair of tweezers to pick it up. He picked up an almond cookie, forgetting his wariness of them when he'd first arrived (what better way to hide the flavor of cyanide than in something that was supposed to taste like almonds?) "However, the spread of the chipped creatures presents a new challenge. We've seen ghouls in a fight, but never so many controllers of ghouls."  
  
"My father thought that modern vampire-hunting would involve lesser numbers of more powerful vampires. It seems that the inverse has happened." Integra pushed her glasses back with one finger.  
  
"The greatest blessing is that older vampires do not appreciate the younger ones' appearance." Anderson gave his teacup another dubious look and finally picked it up by lifting under the bowl. "I actually found an older creature while tracking down chipped vampires. They kept dying when they went near a certain area. I checked to see what was there. . ." He saw a glint appear in her eyes as he began the story. He was not surprised to hear, "That reminds me of the time. . ." as soon as he'd concluded.  
  
Three war stories later, Integra said her goodnights and retreated to her bedroom.  
  
Anderson watched her go, curious. She'd opened up a little as they talked, but then had suddenly reverted to the icy leader of Hellsing. He wondered what he'd said to set her off.  
  
*~*  
  
Integra folded her glasses and put them carefully on the end table.  
  
All right, he was surprisingly sensitive (he noticed when he irritated her) and a decent conversationalist, and probably fairly intelligent, and a good soldier against vampires. He was still a homicidal maniac placed under a calming influence.  
  
She fell asleep wondering if the weather spell could be adapted to keep Anderson under a perpetual cloud of calm. 


	7. Otherwise Known as the Calm before the S...

The story creeps in on little cat feet.  
  
I'm trying to write carefully of my little lovebirds while they're, um. . . to continue a bad analogy, while they're tweeping at each other from as far across the cage as they can get. This means my pacing has slowed a bit. Which is too bad. I want to write of decapitations and much blood. Stupid uncooperative stories.  
  
Reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy, even the ones that make me bang my head on my keyboard and go back to correct things. Silent readers are equally appreciated. (Especially by my keyboard.)  
  
Nobody in this chapter belongs to me. (That was a plot twist for you, hunh?)  
  
~*~  
  
He was not doing his duty.  
  
Anderson sat in the quiet of the study, looking at the phone. Sir Integra was off at a meeting - she'd been quite vague about it, so he assumed that it involved either the good of Hellsing, or himself - and he'd just gotten off the phone with Maxwell.  
  
A very peeved and bitter Maxwell. Using careful phrases and vague references, wrapped in a description of how things were going back at home, he explained to Anderson that he'd been over there for more than a week, and what, exactly, was he doing? Had he experienced severe paralysis? Furthermore, Maxwell was looking at satellite images of Hellsing from overhead, and was getting tired of his lack of knowledge. He wanted to know the layout of Hellsing's interior, the sooner the better. (Either that, or he was actually speaking of the future of the faithful in New Jerusalem, and Anderson was misunderstanding him. Alexander thought his interpretation more likely.)  
  
Anderson was grateful for the carefully social nature of Maxwell's call. It gave him more time to prepare his responses. Yes, thank you, he was making the adjustment to a new country well, and wasn't it nice to be able to get used to a new life gradually? Maxwell obviously made note of this, since a moment later he slipped in a barbed comment about Anderson's courage. Anderson tried a slightly different tack. Had Maxwell ever thought of how long it had taken to construct the Temple? It was amazing that a people of travelling refugees had the materials packed along with them to do so.  
  
This gave him a moment of silence on the phone, in which he thought he heard the faint squeak of enamel as Maxwell gritted his teeth. "We must remember that God prepared the Israelites for their journey. Their task was broken down to listening and obeying. I'll be sure to fax a text that I found useful in my studies."  
  
After that, all he'd wanted to do was get off the phone before Maxwell personally came out to throw explosives at him.  
  
Alexander stood for a moment, arms crossed, staring out the window at the falling rain. A knock sounded on the door. He turned. "Come in."  
  
Integra stepped inside, first looking at the phone. Then her gaze went to him. "I wanted to show you about the grounds, so you could decide if you wanted to stay here or not."  
  
She was wearing that small smile, a step up from the cool little smirk he had seen most often. Alexander mentally went over how obvious Maxwell might have been in requesting a map of the place. He didn't think she was testing him.  
  
"I would appreciate that." Anderson fell in step beside her. She took long, quick steps as she walked, keeping up with him easily.  
  
"I had a meeting this morning." Integra's spine was stiff. He was used to seeing her slightly more relaxed. He slowed a little, trying to figure out her changed mood. "Some of my colleagues seem to think that this alliance will weaken Hellsing."  
  
He tried to figure out why the thought of that made him uneasy. Hellsing relied on blasphemy, didn't it? He suddenly realized she was waiting for an answer. Honesty came out as soon as he reached for one. "That's not my intention."  
  
"I know it isn't," said Integra sharply. Anderson nearly walked into an end table. What, she trusted him that soon? Hellsing didn't seem to notice his surprise. She had turned suddenly and gone for another door. She opened it, stepped through, glanced to one side. "Seras, what are you- oh. Well, leave us." A small white kitten ran past her ankle. Integra collared it with a quick dodge. "Take her first." She passed the kitten off through the door.  
  
"Him," Seras mentioned, taking the kitten.  
  
"Well, get him out from underfoot, please." Integra's voice had that alarmingly patient note he'd heard from her once, just before she lost her temper. She glanced back at him. Anderson walked up to join her. The hallway was already empty. Integra went down a side hallway and up a flight of stairs, past a soldier. Anderson kept pace. "This is the third floor," Integra continued. "This is where the meeting room, the war room, and the secondary armory are all kept. Walter's workshop is here." She brushed a door with her fingers. "This floor is restricted access. The soldier at the stairs keeps a log of who goes up when. When I was a child, I didn't see this floor." She pushed the door to the meeting room open and stepped inside. Her bearing changed slightly as he watched. She stared around the chairs as though expecting them to challenge her authority.  
  
"Where in the castle were you expecting me to stay?"  
  
"The guest rooms aren't a good idea. Eventually we'd have another meeting with travelling guests. They've all been here before-they'd know if I were keeping my husband in with the diplomats." She went slightly paler. He wouldn't have seen it if he hadn't been watching her.  
  
"Where does that leave?"  
  
"There are several unused rooms on the second floor. Or, should you want the first floor, there's a storage room that can be adapted quickly." Integra was watching the helicopter on the roof of the garages.  
  
"What's our current timeline?"  
  
"I hope to have things finished by tomorrow."  
  
"I'll come with you."  
  
"No." her voice was sharp with surprise, as though she'd just realized something. And then her tone softened. "Hellsing has enemies, Anderson. I need to appear isolated just now, or I will have sacrificed one of the advantages this alliance has given me."  
  
He heard the unspoken "quite few" when she spoke of advantages.  
  
"If you would, there are bullet holes in my office wall that need to be plastered over."  
  
"I thought I heard gunshots," Anderson mentioned. Integra didn't seem to hear him. She was staring at the chair at the head of the table.  
  
"Sir Integra, I wanted to be sure." Anderson walked a few steps closer. "Is there anyone else you would prefer to spend your life bound to?"  
  
He fully expected to hear, at the least, "anyone else!" Instead, a thoughtful expression appeared on her face. "There is only Hellsing."  
  
Forget Alucard and Walter, Anderson thought savagely. If anything was going to kill him here, it was going to be suppressing what he wanted to say. He nodded, aware that being critical of her choice would only anger her.  
  
He hoped that she would change her goals with time. He'd had a taste of being nothing but his work. And even he had a chance to live. He had his work mentoring children.  
  
Well, he had once.  
  
"You're bothered by something."  
  
"Part of my work involved child care." He saw a slim eyebrow go up. "Well, there aren't ghouls popping up in Rome nonstop."  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
"Well, sometimes improperly killed vampires eventually recover and dig out, and then-"  
  
"I mean about the children."  
  
"Oh." He thought. "It's usually barely contained chaos. We have funding straight from the church and we're one of the larger organizations, so we're often training new staff for work at smaller orphanages while we're trying to do our jobs. I usually teach Latin, sometimes Italian grammar. If I have to substitute, it's usually in math."  
  
"What's the hardest part? Discipline?"  
  
"I don't have to deal with that. The office does." Anderson grinned. "The hardest part is keeping their paperwork straight."  
  
"Paperwork?"  
  
"We're an orphanage. There aren't parents, so we have to account for their time, their behavior, unusual incidents. . ." he threw his hands in the air. "The worst are field trips. They're either overexcited, tired and grumpy, or both. I can barely keep up with twenty-five elated children. What is that look supposed to mean?"  
  
"I never had a nanny. I didn't think I'd end up marrying one." Integra brushed past him, walking for the door. She paused. "If you'd come with me from this floor, I'm going to retire for the night."  
  
"She's impossible to talk to," Anderson breathed at the chair at the head of the table. He followed Sir Hellsing from the conference room. 


	8. In Which the Reader Gets Whiplash

Upon sober authorial rereading, the last chapter was. . . Stinky. I was trying a bit too hard then.  
  
Work shall commence as soon as I can think of something better. In the meantime, our story finally takes a turn into a fresh direction. As a matter of fact, it heads off into a completely new and unforeseen direction.  
  
I'm so sorry it took me so long. You may throw tomatoes now. But you may not hit the Hellsing characters, because they are not mine and not to be blamed for this.  
  
~*~  
  
Integra was watching Anderson very, very carefully.  
  
He looked. . . Lost. Occasionally he would look thoughtful. Then she would change course, and his expression would go worried again.  
  
They were plotting an erratic course through the gardens of the Hellsing grounds. She wanted to know exactly how far from Hellsing the spell would endure. So far, it wasn't a long distance.  
  
She was becoming better at reading his face. Now she could catch the faintest flicker of emotion as he started to move outside the calming influence of the spell. She thought of reasons for his anxiety. He could have pre-wedding jitters that the spell was blocking. He could be aware again of how little he had done to undermine her since his arrival. He could have done quite a lot to undermine her, and what she was seeing was guilt or fear of being caught.  
  
At least she didn't have to worry about Alucard showing up and ruining her experiment. She had ordered him strictly and clearly to remain inside the walls of Hellsing until she gave him further notice.  
  
They moved around the east wing of the castle. This part of their walk brought them close to the storm gutters that traveled to the river. Integra looked ahead, mentally plotting their course. Miniature pink rosebushes ridged the path, surrounded by lush green grass.  
  
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely noticed the priest taking a stride towards her, but then he lay hands on her and she gasped in instant outrage. He caught her by the waist, staggered with her for a step, and threw her as hard as he could. He then fell flat against the earth. This was not what he had intended; he had wanted to jump away. He had been off-balance already from throwing a grown woman. The foot to the groin and the loose stone in the path did not help matters.  
  
Integra registered heat and sound. She was falling through a shockwave before she understood what had happened. She rolled, covering her face with her hands, and got to her feet immediately. Behind her, Anderson thrashed. Pebbles and dirt still rained to the ground.  
  
Integra took in the scene, following the trail of smoke back to the entrance of the storm gutters. A figure crouched in the opening, a metallic column lain over one shoulder. In the same moment, she realized that there was nothing to provide cover but baby rosebushes. They were too far from the house to take cover.  
  
Cursing, Integra charged. Her best chance of survival was to get too close for their attacker to shoot again, or to get to one side of the opening, out of his line of fire. She saw the figure tip his head to the side, into the cannon's scope. Something shot by her head, whipping her hair forward. The figure pitched back.  
  
His shot went into the roof of the storm gutter.  
  
Integra couldn't see any more through the roll of smoke and fire. She paused. Behind her, Anderson ran on, grabbing her again. She gave an angry shout, but refrained from attacking him this time. They fell into the smoky protection of the storm gutter. Integra, turning to look, saw fire and earth plume upwards in the wake of another rocket. They backed into the gutter, ducking low beneath its scorched roof.  
  
"Who is shooting my lawn?" she demanded, in a voice that could halve nails.  
  
"Someone far to the right," he said. "Probably on a roof. At an angle of forty-five degrees. I saw the smoke." She listened to the lilt in his voice as she calculated. Anderson glanced down the tunnel, flattening himself against the wall. His bulk took up most of the opening anyway.  
  
"Got a flashlight?" she asked. She had heard it too.  
  
"No," he said, trying to make himself smaller. She was about to mock him, but then realized he was trying to let the light by. She bit back the words and drew her pistol. She fired off a single shot. They both watched breathlessly.  
  
The momentary light from the shot glinted back to them from clean metal points in the walls. There was nothing visible for as far as the tunnel reached.  
  
"Did I see cut metal?" asked the priest.  
  
"Yes," she said. "There was a series of defensive grilles set in the gutter. Tampering with them should have set off charges. The metal bars have been cut cleanly." She started down the tunnel.  
  
"Sir Integra, is this wise?" He kept up with her.  
  
"The troops were undoubtedly alerted by the explosions and will be looking for the threat from outside. We will not be followed. I want to find out if only one tunnel is cleared, or if we have to reseal the cross-tunnels." She was still shaking from barely suppressed rage.  
  
"Without a light?"  
  
"There is a box ahead with a flashlight. Just in case."  
  
"In case of--"  
  
They both froze at the distinctive scrape of metal on stone. Integra raised the gun and fired. In its momentary light, they saw a gray, cadaverous shape down the tunnel. Its eyes were sunken.  
  
Integra did not fire again. The darkness swallowed them. They heard the soft scrapings of the ghoul's approach. Integra waited until she heard what would have been a moan if the corpse had been fresher; instead, it was a choked, airy sound. She fired once. The ghoul went down. They heard the sound of dust sifting through clothing.  
  
"Why wait?" Anderson kept his voice as low as possible. He did not want to miss the sounds of others.  
  
"It's wearing a maintenance uniform," Integra said. "It must have wandered for some distance." She searched its clothing and came up with a heavy- handled torch. She pushed it wordlessly over her shoulder. The priest took it from her and flicked it on. First he checked behind them, and then he shone it over Integra's shoulder. She was silent.  
  
Anderson raised an eyebrow at her back. "What now?"  
  
"The junction is a short distance ahead." They pressed on. Anderson suddenly grabbed Integra's shoulder.  
  
"You Bible-breathing moron, don't do that!"  
  
"Something's--"  
  
The tunnel collapsed on them from the side.  
  
Integra gave a shriek of anger and fired. Anderson's push carried her out of the way of most of the bricks. Something sleek and solid loomed above the priest. He rolled away, away from Integra, and came up clutching a shard of stone. He threw it, overhand, into the beast. Integra fired steadily. The creature ducked away.  
  
They heard the moans of the undead.  
  
"That's torn it," said Integra. "This is a definite security breach."  
  
"We're going back," Anderson said.  
  
The beast returned from behind in a shower of metal and stone. Anderson grabbed a twisted steel support and jabbed it into the creature's side. It twisted and rolled, and a beady eye regarded them.  
  
Integra's shot splattered the eye in a shower of black blood. It screamed, a high-pitched keen. It shuddered, and lay still.  
  
They looked at the hulking pile of ruined flesh that blocked the exit.  
  
"Where's the junction?" Anderson asked, hefting his makeshift blade.  
  
"Shine the light here," Integra said.  
  
A ghoul fell through the hole in the side of the tunnel. Anderson swung before Integra had her pistol level. Half the ghoul returned the way it had come.  
  
"Summon your pet," Anderson said.  
  
"We are not defeated yet," said Integra crisply.  
  
"We're stuck underground with a pile of monster blocking our path," Anderson began, his voice rising. "You have your pistol and I have a piece of rubble. Do you have more ammunition?"  
  
"Not much," Integra answered.  
  
"And we don't know how good the batteries are in the torch."  
  
"Father Anderson." Integra placed a hand on her hip, watching the new hole in the side of the sewer and the length of the tunnel itself for movement. "You are here. I am here. We are both armed and not badly hurt. I," she turned to let the light play over her, "do not need Alucard to deal with every situation that may arise. I have ordered him to remain inside. My order stands."  
  
The ghoul's upper body dragged itself back into the tunnel with them. Anderson stomped. Dust settled around his shoe.  
  
"Shall we?" Integra asked, and stepped into the larger tunnel.  
  
"Oh, all right then," Anderson conceded, and followed. 


	9. The Storm Breaks but Nobody Cares

The tunnels were dark and quiet.  
  
This was, Integra reflected, not exactly true. She could hear the occasional squeak or rumble from deep within the storm sewers, or the occasional clunk or scuffle as Anderson tripped over an uneven spot in the floor or hit his head.  
  
The smell of wet earth and damp metal surrounded them. More suspicious smells began to creep into the air. Integra halted.  
  
"Tunnel's getting wider," said Anderson, in what was almost impatience.  
  
"This shouldn't be here," Integra whispered.  
  
"Eh?" Anderson was blissfully unaware of her climbing wrath. Integra swallowed back sourness and resisted the urge to spin and shout at him.  
  
"Hellsing does not keep unguarded paths into its back door," she said instead. "This tunnel is not part of the storm sewers. It's new," she added impatiently, as Anderson sniffed anxiously and looked at the water around his feet. "But it was dug without tripping the seismograph we keep in the basement."  
  
"You keep a seismograph in the basement?"  
  
"Ever since one of my ancestors had to deal with a swarm of moles." Integra stared down the tunnel, as far as she could see past the torchlight. "Is that getting dimmer?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Integra was grateful that he made no asinine requests to summon her vampire. Hellsing did not depend on Arucard. Whatever was down here, unless it was an army, she would not need more than the priest.  
  
The idea that the priest just might fall in the line of duty crossed dimly over the back of her mind. She quashed it with a lift of a fine eyebrow.  
  
"So why have we stopped?" Anderson asked behind her. The idea raised its head, and was granted temporary respite. Integra stepped slowly forward.  
  
"Did that tunneling beast remind you of anything?" she asked, scanning the tunnel ahead of them. It was indeed growing wider. This was quite a security breach, and she would have her answers.  
  
"Falling rock," said Anderson crisply. "There's a fork ahead."  
  
Integra stared at the light, frowning. "I don't know this part of the tunnels," she conceded. "We'd best go back and wait for the troops to dig through, and then come back with reinf--fmph!" The light had flicked out and a broad hand clapped over her mouth. She put a hand to the wall to balance herself, raising her other hand and pointing back over her shoulder.  
  
"Quiet," Anderson breathed in her ear. Since he wasn't moving to restrain her and she had her gun pointed to his head, Integra remained silent. She realized that she was holding her eyes open wide in an attempt to see in the dark. She relaxed, remaining perfectly still.  
  
The ground trembled. She felt it through the soles of her shoes and through her fingertips. Integra gasped as sudden cold touched her. The priest's fingers fell away from her mouth.  
  
"Sundown," he said behind her. The light flicked on. "Something down here woke up."  
  
This time, Integra sensed the danger first. She heard a percussive thumping, something like footsteps approaching, but heavier and more staggered. "Turn the light down the tunnel. Now!"  
  
Anderson obeyed. She sensed the figure beside her flex and crouch, ready to attack whatever came into their sight. The thumping continued.  
  
She heard Anderson let out a long, slow breath as they came into sight.  
  
There were two of them. They moved in a steady series of. . . There was no other word for it. . . Hops. Their feet were close together and their knees did not move. The taller was moving more quickly than the other, resulting in a staggered pattern. She could barely see their faces.  
  
Integra shuddered as she raised her gun. Beside her, Anderson stayed still, ready to attack if they came close. She set her shoulders and blew both their heads away.  
  
"Chinese hopping vampire," Anderson said slowly.  
  
"Those were vampires?"  
  
"Actually, they were ghouls," Anderson corrected, raising the light to shine on the bodies. They were sifting slowly into greenish-gray dust. "The vampire version flies more often than it hops. Or it levitates." He looked back at her. "I'm not sure the two of us can take one on alone."  
  
"What do you mean you're not sure?"  
  
"I've never had to fight one," the priest said mildly. "I've heard that it is not easy."  
  
Integra spun. Anderson jumped, pivoting with her to shine the torch back down the tunnel.  
  
"We're going back," Integra explained. "Perhaps one of the side tunnels will help us--"  
  
They both felt the ground around them tremble. Anderson moved reflexively, putting the light out and grabbing Integra, pulling her behind him. The movement trembled and faded into the distance.  
  
"What was that?" Integra asked softly.  
  
"It tunnels underground," Anderson's voice answered. "The creature that attacked us must have been one of its pets."  
  
Integra remained where she was, settled against the warmth of his side. The darkness sheltered them. The torch came on, showing his head angled down to hers. She put a hand over his, keeping the light down. Right now, she felt almost safe. Why couldn't she hold the illusion?  
  
"We should keep moving," Anderson said. She glared. Was any male capable of shutting up when he should? She stepped away, chin up, and began leading the way down the tunnel again.  
  
"Sh," Anderson said, shining the torch both ways down the tunnel. The swoop and bob of the light made Integra dizzy. She fell silent as requested.  
  
"Sorry," Anderson said a moment later. "Rustle. Nothing else. Likely just a rat."  
  
"Are Chinese vampires quiet?"  
  
"They're usually easy to notice, from what I hear," Anderson said. "The chill aura is usually a clue--"  
  
The tunnel shook. Anderson reacted immediately, pushing Integra down against the wall.  
  
"I may have to call Alucard after all," Integra said, when the movement had passed by and the tunnel failed to bury them in meters of damp earth.  
  
"I'd settle for a team of excavators," Anderson said, helping her to her feet.  
  
Integra threw one arm around his neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him.  
  
"This is not the safest place for this," Anderson said a minute later, rescuing his glasses (which were about to fall into the mud underfoot.)  
  
Integra silenced further objection. She was tired, dirty, and thwarted. If she was going to have her day saved, once again, by her pet, she was going to damn well kiss the man she had to marry anyway.  
  
Anderson was a good kisser, except he kept thinking of something to say. Integra gave up. She drew back against the tunnel and began loading her spare bullets into her gun. Anderson stepped away, flushed.  
  
"Well? It was obviously rather important," Integra said finally.  
  
"What brought that on?"  
  
"I wanted to kiss you." Integra patted her pockets for one more shell and found none.  
  
"Oh." Anderson looked up and down the tunnel, with the air of a man desperately seeking a distraction.  
  
"That's rather insulting," Integra said crisply.  
  
"You're right." Anderson stepped back towards her, raised her chin, and kissed her.  
  
Integra put her arms over his shoulders, watching where the muzzle of the pistol went. Well, the day wasn't going to be an utter waste.  
  
A regular thumping sound reached them. Anderson lifted his head and shined the torch down the tunnel. Integra put her back to his chest and leveled the pistol.  
  
"You understand this complicates things," said Anderson over her head.  
  
"Why should it?" Integra sighted down the tunnel at head level. "You've admired me for as long as we've known each other, I've respected you. . ."  
  
"Well, I don't think anyone expects us to actually be in love," Anderson told the top of her head.  
  
"You're right. Walter may drop his monocle."  
  
"Maxwell may withdraw his blessing."  
  
"We'll get someone else's." Integra squeezed off a shot. The hopping ghoul flipped over backwards.  
  
"Nice shot."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You do understand that I love you?" Anderson asked carefully. "You may have noticed that I admire you, and you probably noticed that I have the deepest regard for you--"  
  
"Would you love me if I wore a dress and looked perfectly useless?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Integra glanced back at him. "There's something we forgot to sort out."  
  
Anderson's face went blank. He paused for a moment, then went to one knee. Integra was about to crisply request that he quit being an idiot. He spoke first.  
  
"Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing, I again apologize, with all that I am, to you and your men for my actions against your mortal soldiers." He glanced up at her. "I wish to offer my services in the stead of those who have fallen, to serve as long as I live."  
  
Integra nodded. "Paladin Alexander Anderson, I accept your life as an offering to replace those you have killed. Rise."  
  
Anderson stood, squeezing water out of his pants leg.  
  
"I've asked my men to die for me," Integra said into the new quiet. "And we have opposed each other. These are new days, Anderson."  
  
"Alexander."  
  
"Don't make me regret this."  
  
"Never."  
  
The silence stretched, with both searching for the next perfect word that would cement this new start.  
  
Integra gave up first. "Alucard," she finally said. "Alucard. Do not make me raise my voice."  
  
The side of the tunnel moved. A head with a red hat poked out of it.  
  
"Hello, master. Did you know you have mud in your hair?"  
  
"I'd like a way out of here," Integra said. She didn't miss the way Alucard's gaze widened momentarily, or the quick look he flicked between herself and her future husband.  
  
"As you wish," said Alucard, stepping forward. He put an arm around her. The world pitched, darkened, and cleared. They stood in the street before Hellsing.  
  
"Get Anderson up here," Integra ordered crisply. A moment later, Anderson was on the street with her, glaring at the vampire. A car started to come down the street. The three of them retreated to the sidewalk. Integra started up the walk towards the Hellsing grounds, pleased to see her soldiers patrolling the grounds. Walter was probably on the roof with a sniper rifle. Integra turned. Anderson was on the sidewalk, watching her with a peculiar expression on his face.  
  
"Coming?"  
  
He stepped onto the drive of Hellsing and walked with her. She glanced sideways at him twice.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sir Integra!" Ah. That was Walter bringing blankets. That meant that Seras Victoria was on the roof watching for more gunmen, or she'd know the reason why.  
  
"Walter."  
  
"Sir Integra." Walter threw a blanket over her shoulders and pushed another at Anderson with barely recognizable hostility. "We were able to capture one of the gunmen alive. He is a refugee from--"  
  
"China," Integra guessed. "Excuse my manners. It was rude to interrupt." She allowed Walter to chivvy her towards the shelter of her home.  
  
"Correct. And I learned why you were fired on. The men we captured were sworn servants to a vampire, and you and Anderson walked close to one of their shelters on the same day they learned what Hellsing really was. They were jumpy. The men are now in custody. We're going to have to kill their master."  
  
"Why has their activity not triggered the seismograph in the basement?" Integra asked.  
  
"Their vampire's disturbance is swallowed quickly by the earth," Alucard interrupted. "Such a creature is quite stealthy."  
  
Anderson still said nothing at all.  
  
"Oh," Walter said. "And. . . You recall Miss Victoria's intervention for your safety?"  
  
"Oh, yes, a novel idea," Integra agreed.  
  
"Such a step had only a limited time value."  
  
"Oh, good," Integra sighed. Walter gave her a sideways look. Alucard muttered something under his breath and vanished.  
  
"Sorry?" Anderson asked.  
  
Integra watched her home. Now or never. Either she and Walter would have to disarm him, or she would see if she and Anderson had cemented their peace. "We had you under a spell," she said. "It wore off."  
  
Anderson stopped. Integra turned to face him. There was a faint, metallic singing.  
  
"I thought the spell was still on," Anderson said. "I stepped onto your lands and I had no desire to act against anyone."  
  
"It's off," Walter said, removing the loop of floss from around the paladin's neck. "Seras has been playing with kittens all day trying to get it removed. It only recently occurred to her that it might be gone already." He realized that neither of them were listening.  
  
"I was willing to walk into the spell again," Anderson said. "I was willing to. For you."  
  
"I. . . It wasn't my idea," said Integra, throttling a blush.  
  
"I wanted to make you feel safe."  
  
"I don't, right now," said Integra. "I'm hungry. I want to be within my house's walls so nobody can take potshots at me, and I want tea." She held out a hand.  
  
Anderson took it.  
  
They walked together towards the main doors of Hellsing.  
  
*~*  
  
Hah. Author's Notes!!  
  
Why are updates so erratic? Because right now, you do not want my life. I have enough change and chaos to engender a new personality. I will call him Stan.  
  
But I was able to finish the first part of this story. Now I get to resolve my new plot line for the second half of the story.  
  
Many thanks to BlueMew for her steady encouragement. Also thanks to my reviewer who pointed out that I am not making sense. I am still not making sense, but I'm working on it.  
  
And, naturally, thanks to everyone who reads this, whether you review it or not.  
  
Chinese Hopping Vampires are an actual hoppy cultural phenomenom. Get. . . I think his name is Tsui Hark's "The Vampire Slayers" for an evening of hoppy fun. It has gore and gratuitous impalations and zombie wranglers. Good stuff. 


	10. In Which Integra Notices the Puzzle Piec...

+++++  
  
Author's notes: because I care so much about your reading entertainment that I'm willing to butt in to talk at you.  
  
None of this is mine save the plot, which is so goofy I doubt Kouta Hirano wants it. It's taken an excruciatingly long time and many convolutions to present this relationship. And I have to go back and pick up one of my plot threads before I lose the chance.  
  
But thank you for reading.  
  
+++++  
  
Integra delicately held the chopsticks between two fingers.  
  
This was going to take a lot of negotiating. Frankly, she wasn't sure which idiotic male should be locked in the basement. Anderson stood at one side of the room, while Alucard remained at the other, and the tension in the room was beginning to raise the fine hairs on the back of her neck.  
  
She took a tiny bite of rice. She pushed the bowl to the end of the desk. "Come here, Alucard."  
  
He crossed the room. Anderson appeared to be blessing a letter opener. Integra made a mental note to get another; she didn't want letters combusting just because the person who wrote them was a little peeved with her.  
  
She motioned to the small bowl on the tea tray. "Do you feel any unusual aversion towards that?"  
  
"No. What is it?"  
  
"Sticky rice." She waved her chopsticks. The wonderful thing about sticky rice, she was discovering, was that it stuck to chopsticks and made you seem much better at them than you actually were. She reached out with the chopsticks and tapped a grain of rice against Alucard's face. It stuck. Alucard looked balefully at her, removing it with two fingers.  
  
"Chinese hopping vampires are apparently vulnerable to sticky rice," Integra explained sweetly. "I wanted to know if it was a shared weakness."  
  
"And water," Anderson added. "They don't like it. They can't see things in it."  
  
"I can't load a gun with sticky rice and water," Alucard complained. "Let me go test its vulnerabilities."  
  
Anderson had been begging for her to loan him some explosives and his swords all day, Integra mused. Now Alucard. She would be lucky if she didn't drown in testosterone before her wedding day.  
  
"I'm sending you to investigate a possible FREAK," Integra answered. Alucard narrowed his eyes. She saw the signs of anger appear on his face. Alucard so rarely needed to guard his emotions, and sometimes she could read him despite his efforts. He needed a challenge, existed for battle. If there was ever a time he would challenge her authority, it was when there was a new enemy on the horizon.  
  
In other words, right now.  
  
Anderson. . . Well, if she didn't feel something for him, she'd send him with Alucard to go take care of the investigation. Now that she was out of the sewers, she wasn't sure what she felt, exactly. Down there she had been claustrophobic, vital, on edge. Anderson was an ally, and the only non-corpse in the vicinity. Kissing Anderson had been a way to stabilize herself. Up here, he was a nuisance. A sincere, honest, and noble nuisance, but she'd liked her letter opener.  
  
She made a mental note: a pleasant daydream for later pondering would be to lock both males in the basement. Ah, peace. . .  
  
In the meantime, Alucard needed to be straightened out. "You didn't sense this vampire, didn't say anything when it was almost beneath our feet." She fished a cigar from her desk. "Such a weak presence can't be worth your time."  
  
"This thing is very different from the creatures I usually see," Alucard said, in smooth protest. "I thought it was a subterranean creature, which you never showed an interest in."  
  
"Alucard," Integra said, closing the distance between them, "I was fired on from a neighboring roof!" She lit her cigar. "Go. Investigate."  
  
If she hadn't been watching for it, she would have missed the expression that touched Alucard's face. He bowed and moved away. She replayed the look, trying to decide if Anderson was in danger, or she. She didn't often see Alucard looking sad.  
  
She opened a folded note on her desk with the end of her chopstick and sighed. Of course. She'd forgotten the psychologist she'd brought in. It was past time to throw him out. She glanced at her watch. Too late now. She'd have to do it in the morning.  
  
*~* "Oh, hello, Sir Integra." Wendell beamed at her. Integra gave him a small, civil smile.  
  
"How's your work going?" Integra took the seat he offered.  
  
"Swimmingly," Wendell answered, obviously suppressing his enthusiasm. "I've just been studying lately. If I may ask, what were those explosions I heard yesterday evening?"  
  
"Practice," Integra answered. She realized from his expression she'd spoken a shade too quickly.  
  
"Two soldiers came to my room. One asked me to stay inside. The other one took his rifle and watched the window."  
  
"It's their responsibility to be sure the residents of the house are safe during drills," Integra explained.  
  
"Who was he going to shoot?" Wendell asked gently.  
  
Integra tipped her head back slightly, buying a shade more distance. "My soldiers followed drill protocol. Please don't concern yourself with how they do their duties." The small man's face held a look of deep thoughtfulness. She wasn't sure she liked that.  
  
"I've come to thank you for the services you've been required for, but I'm afraid we have little further use for analysis." The initial look of dismay that crossed his face almost went by her; she was distracted by thoughts of sticky rice and hopping vampires. She looked carefully at him, a little nonplussed. "I will certainly compensate you for time spent here."  
  
He nodded. "I'll be sure to send a bill once I return to my office."  
  
"Thank you." Integra rose. He watched her, a frown line between his eyebrows. Integra, pondering, went to find Walter. He should know that their guest was departing, and she hadn't had a good chance to speak to him.  
  
She found him in the library, comparing the characteristics of the Chinese Hopping Vampire with the Polynesian Sand Vampire. "Hello, Walter. I've requested that Wendell pack and depart." She stretched. "I wanted to cull the amount of things we need to worry about while we're tracking down where this new vampire came from."  
  
Walter nodded. "Good. I've had a difficult time keeping track of him."  
  
"What do you mean? Hasn't he been in the library?"  
  
"He appears to want to go all over the castle. I thought about assigning him a soldier."  
  
"Well, if he hasn't been in the library," Integra scowled at the picture in the book, which showed a group of natives slaughtering a sand-colored leaping creature, "what's he been studying?" 


End file.
